


ich will's dir einfach sagen--

by sharp_eyed



Category: Killerpilze
Genre: 400+ words of pointless descriptions are what i'm best at, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharp_eyed/pseuds/sharp_eyed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>self-indulgent van!drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ich will's dir einfach sagen--

Jo shook out of his slumber and turned his head away from the window; the landscapes outside of the car were moving in a shaky blur, constant changes of scenery enough to make him feel dizzy and lightheaded. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the van, from Fabi who was chatting animatedly with Benni, today’s driver, up to Mäx, whom he was currently using as a pillow, half-leaning against his lap with his limbs sprawled haphazardly in the backseat of the car next to the endless amounts of guitar cases, cables and drum sets.

Mäx was idly scrolling through his messages, gaze fixed on his phone, headphones on and head bobbing to the music. Jo caught himself staring at the rays of sunlight dancing on his friend’s short, boyish eyelashes. A hint of freckles was visible on the slope of his slightly sunburnt nose and cheeks, the seemingly weak April sun merciless for Mäx’ light complexion. His curls, a little flatted out at the top from hours of being pressed against the backseat of their van, stuck to his forehead, appearing almost golden in the late afternoon light. Jo imagined they still smelled faintly of guiarist's citrus shampoo and the cigarette smoke from their last stop. The two-day scruff on his face and dark bags under his tired blue eyes did nothing to conceal the weariness that they all felt after 3 months of touring, but somehow it didn’t seem unflattering. They only brought out the softness of Mäx' usually sharp features, Jo registered offhandedly. 

He was vaguely reminded of the pleasant feeling of Mäx’ stubble rubbing against his neck whenever they hugged, the slightly smaller guitarist fitting perfectly in Jo’s arms, just about the right height to nuzzle his face in the dip of Jo’s collarbones. He hummed at the thought and closed his eyes, wriggling a little in Mäx’ lap in search of a more comfortable position.

A light smack at his nose made him look up again, his face setting into a small frown. Mäx was looking at him with raised eyebrows, his fingers now tugging playfully at Jo’s for once unstyled fringe.

‘What?’ Jo asked, stretching his legs lazily, and gave Mäx a slow grin. ‘I’m just getting comfy, ‘s all.’

The guitarist rolled his eyes and leaned back against the seat. His hand stayed where it was though, playing with the loose strands falling on Jo's forehead.

Jo sighed happily and closed his eyes again, lulled back to sleep by the warmth of the slowly setting sun and the gentle touch of fingers combing through his hair.


End file.
